


Blackguard

by NohrianScum (OrderOfRevan)



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Character Study, Childhood, F/M, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Sibling Bonding, Starred Chapters Contain NSFW Content, Tags to be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 06:03:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14743319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrderOfRevan/pseuds/NohrianScum
Summary: He was a paladin, a proud knight of Nohr, the Crown Prince who defended his people with a passion second to none.They called him a paragon, praising him for his chivalry and virtue.But at the end of the day, he knew they saw only the surface veneer.In truth, his soul was shackled by bonds of guilt, branding him forever as a blackguard.





	1. Stomach Full of Guilt*

**Author's Note:**

> The person who inspired this found my tumblr and had a conversation with me about Xander ideas. If you find my tumblr, you might inspire me, too. 
> 
> Who knows.

In hindsight, he really should have thought this through. 

He should have stopped, taken into account what the consequences could potentially be, and pulled himself back from the brink. It wasn’t too late for that now, if he were being honest, even if her hands were in his hair and her lips were hot and wanting on his own. 

Even if he could taste her every moan of desire. 

And he wanted her, wanted to  **_feel_ ** her so badly that it physically pained him, but this was not something he should be doing. 

Already he knew he was doomed, because even though he still had the power to turn away he wouldn’t. He would keep going, he would take this woman for everything she was worth because nothing compared to the way this felt, and he would rather be chasing that high for the time being than doing almost anything else. 

Breaking away he trailed kisses, open mouthed and hungry, down her jaw, scraping his teeth along her neck as she arched against him. She was a beautiful woman, full figured and dark haired, the exact opposite of every courtier he’d ever encountered and for that? 

For that he was grateful. 

“ _ My prince _ \--” she rasped, hips stuttering against him desperately, lips parted as she panted against him, hands attempting to pull him closer. 

“Hush,” he muttered, nipping at her ear, sliding his hands down her sides. “No words.”

Her eyes flashed like a blade in the dark and he shivered, appreciating her boldness more than he could say when she flipped them around, pressing herself against him. Xander watched with half-lidded eyes as she fell to her knees, rubbing her hand teasingly over the front of his pants. 

“Then allow me to assist in the effort by occupying my mouth,” the woman whispered, her tone sending a jolt arousal through him. 

He reached out, gently trailing a finger along her jaw, nodding with a smile on his lips and taking pleasure in the way her face lit up at the sight. She was a very beautiful woman, and her lips… She had truly perfect lips, her pronounced bow only enhancing the inherent feminine beauty of her features and exemplifying her lovely smile. 

Slowly, he dragged his thumb over those lips then tangled his fingers in her thick hair, swallowing as he watched her hands begin to fumble with the buttons on his trousers. Her knuckles brushed against him, making his body twitch, though he groaned only when she took the liberty of yanking his pants and smallclothes alike down just enough that she could stroke him without interference. 

Unable to look at her the moment she pressed her lips against his shaft, he closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the wall, focusing instead on the sensation of her mouth and hands. All he could think through the aching heat that burned with every movement of her tongue and lips, through the small noises she made around him, was how she must be quite experienced. 

He found he hardly minded. 

Blunt fingernails scratching against the wall, he muttered praise to her, slowly rolling his hips into her mouth just to increase the feeling of friction. She took him, all of him, until he could feel himself against her throat, pushing her away firmly when he could stand it no longer. 

“As excellent as you are,” he managed in a voice thick with pleasure, “I don’t wish to finish in your beautiful mouth.” 

“You flatter me,” she said hoarsely, tongue flicking out to lick her lips. “Where do you want to finish?” 

Declining to answer, he pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her, their teeth clashing together as he devoured her. She melted against him, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt just as he pulled away, stripping his clothing as quickly as he could and leaving him utterly bare before her. 

Admiringly, her hands traced the shapes his his biceps, trailing down his chest, fingers leaving warm trails over his skin. Leaning forward, she brushed her lips against his shoulder, her tongue and teeth working against him with an intensity that made his erection twitch, hitching her skirt up and grasping her ass. 

Not caring at all what happened as he pulled her dress up over her head, Xander found himself rutting against her, still pressed against the wall as she teased him with touches and love bites… Conveniently placed where no one would see them, thank the gods. 

“ _ Milord _ !” she gasped against him as he pressed her flush against his body, erection trapped between them. 

Carefully, though with much speed as he could manage, he worked her small clothes off, reaching between them to tease her clit, her entire body arching against his at his touch. Burying his face in her neck, he chuckled against her skin, the cool wall quickly warming from their heat as she ground against his hand. 

Before long she grasped him in hand and they set a rhythm and he found he was content to get off like this, his head falling back as she peppered increasingly desperate kisses along his neck and collarbone. Praise fell from his lips, her tempo increasing as she stroked him more quickly, held against his body by the single hand still on her ass, her free hand trailing admiringly up and down his side. 

He was close for the second time, painfully so, but she came undone first… Perhaps a testament to his experience with these kinds of liaisons. Her hands stationary, all he could do was thrust into her palm until he finally released, legs momentarily becoming boneless so that he was forced to support himself against the wall. 

They stayed that way for awhile, her head resting against his chest, catching their breaths, before she pulled away, walking to the washroom to clean off. When she came back, she picked up her clothing, carefully redressing herself, though her eyes remained on her face. 

“If you should ever need release again, my Prince…” she muttered, pulling a small smile from him. 

“Thank you,” he said. “I… I certainly hope you enjoyed yourself.”

“You’re very good with your hands,” she admitted with a small laugh, her lips still as perfect as they had been earlier. “I’d like to see if milord is as good with his mouth as I’ve heard tell.”

It wasn’t comforting, exactly, to know that there were rumors circulating about his mouth, but… Well, at least it made getting these liaisons easier in the first place. Shaking his head in amusement, he pushed away from the wall and walked back over to his bed, running his hand idly over the sheets. “Then perhaps I’ll have to show you next time.”

He could feel her smile on his back for an instant before she opened the door, shutting it quietly behind her. 

Slowly, he sank into a sitting position, exhaling as he carded his hands through his unkempt and sweaty hair. Xander knew he should clean himself, but his mind was elsewhere, already preoccupied with the usual thoughts that haunted him after these little… diversions. 

Sometimes, he only needed a quick release like he did tonight, others they would go on for much longer, drawn out affairs that left his body aching and satisfied. No matter what, though, his mind still drifted to things he would rather not dwell on, thoughts of the Concubine Wars and what had resulted from them. 

Falling back onto the sheets, he stared at the ceiling, palm resting against his forehead as his vision blurred, lost in the patterned tile. He thought of his siblings, twisted out of shape by the wiles of their mother and a father who… a father who cared far more for the pleasures of the flesh than he did his own children. The thought made his stomach feel leaden, but he swallowed past it, knowing that pushing through this train of thought was the only way to free himself from it. 

He’d learned long ago that denial didn’t work.  

Xander was always careful to ensure that no woman he laid with would ever get pregnant. He took precautions so that there would be no more royal bastards running around, sporting blonde hair and violet eyes, bearing broken hearts. He couldn’t bear the thought of any child of his having to live as Camilla, Leo, and Elise had, mocked by the nobles and disregarded by the rest of Nohr. 

Seeing them suffer as they had was nauseating, the consequences of his father’s actions longreaching in ways that he doubted King Garon had ever truly considered. He knew that Camilla wished to abdicate her position once married to live in solitude as a mother, that Leo feared his status would pass onto his own children, and that Elise preferred to pretend there were not those beyond Windmire’s borders who despised her for something beyond her control. 

But in spite of it all, in spite of knowing how greatly this affected those he loved most, in spite of knowing the risks of creating more who knew their plight, there was nothing Xander could do to stop himself from  **_wanting_ ** .  

And if he waited too long, if he didn’t indulge himself, it affected his mood and his performance in battle. It was something so foolish, something he should be able to control, a part of himself he should be able to deny!

He told himself that again and again, but --

Pounding the heel of his palm against his head, he rolled over onto his side and closed his eyes, taking deep, calming breaths. 

But no matter how he tried, there was something that only the touch of a woman could waken in him, a tension deep inside that was only released in the throes of passion. It felt good and it was… It was a distraction, from everything that his mind was wrapped up in, from everything that sat on his shoulders. In the arms of a lover he found complete freedom, a freedom he knew nowhere else, and a kind of genuine adoration for a skill he possessed. 

There was a transparency beyond the nudity, something truly addicting about it, and he was insatiable, always hungry for more. 

In truth, he suspected this was as close as he would ever get to love, and if that was the case…

As sick as it made him, he could understand why his father had taken so many lovers.

Did he really love Katerina or Arete? 

Or were the marriages simply political?

Had Xander ever really known his father at all, or was his entire existence, his entire life, predicated on a series of lies?

He supposed he would never know. 

After all, if King Garon had -- if  _ Father  _ had -- ever been capable of telling him, those days had passed long before Corrin had found her way to the lonely Northern Fortress. 

And that left Xander in the same place he had started this affair --

Utterly alone and with a stomach full of guilt. 


	2. He Who Would Be the Sun (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Xander pulls poetry from my soul and I bleed onto the page for him.

That he was up that night was only a coincidence.

It had stormed for hours and a fallen tree destroyed one of the garden walls, killing a servant in the process. He had seen it all happen from his window and had rushed to help, but he was no healer and could only hold the dying man in his arms. He was left grateful for the lashing rain, as freezing as a necromancer's breath, when the guards were sent to fetch him, assuming they would dismiss his shivering as a result of the cold. 

No one questioned him, pale and drawn, his nightshirt soaked through to the point of transparency as he left wet spots on the stone in the Great Hall. Servants passed as they always passed, dressed in dark colors meant to help them blend into the shadows and stay out of sight of the nobles, paying the Crown Prince no mind. After all, there was much to do in the wake of the former Queen’s funeral, so much that he was certain they could pay no mind to the unsuitable and sensitive Crown Prince as he stood dripping and uncomfortable while awaiting his father’s retainers. 

When the doors at the end of the Hall slammed open, he immediately snapped to attention only to be caught off guard by the sound of a wailing child, struggling in the arms of a heavily cloaked figure that he immediately recognized. It made his stomach drop and twist, his words catching in his throat as the man stormed forward, his dark eyes freezing on Xander, who stared back at him, trying and failing not to shrink from his gaze. 

“Ah,” came the rumbling voice. “You’re up. I can’t say as I was expecting that, but at least you can make yourself useful. You’ve always been good with the children, yes?” 

Xander swallowed back a retort, knowing that it would do no good to remind his father that he had once been good with children, as well… Before whatever darkness had overtaken him and warped him into the hulking shadow that set all by his most cruel or callous of servants cowering. 

Instead, he simply nodded, unable to find the words to speak no matter how hard he tried to summon them, quite suddenly finding his arm full of squirming, red-faced child. His father said nothing else, stomping away and leaving no instructions, no idea of what he was even supposed to do or why he was holding a struggling little girl screaming bloody murder so loudly that her cries echoed and caused his ears to ring. 

Father wasn’t even supposed to be back from Cheve.

A kick from a small foot sent his mind reeling painfully back to the present, and he adjusted his hold on the girl, reaching out to soothe his hand over her soaking hair. He couldn’t discern its color clearly, but he would guess that it was black, her coppery skin making him wonder if she was perhaps Hoshidan. 

That thought alone made his stomach turn, though some of his anxiety was eased as she relaxed at the touches, looking up into his face with raw reddish-brown eyes. 

She couldn’t be much older than Leo, a scrawny little thing with knobby limbs but a face still too round to be Camilla’s 12 years. Her expression was lost, confused, her fingers tangling into the wet fabric of his shirt for dear life, the gesture making him wonder if anyone in his father’s retinue had treated her with any kindness at all if such a simple gesture could calm her. 

Carefully, he shifted her in his arms again, turning and looking around for a maid, his eyes darting frantically across the chamber, heartbeat only calming when he found what he was looking for. A short conversation later found him headed towards a back room where a tub of water would be brought and the girl could bathe, though… He wasn’t sure if she could do so alone. 

He didn’t know much about Hoshidan culture, but he did know that they all bathed together, especially young children. The thought brought a frown to his lips, but he supposed that if he had to assist her, he would do so. 

If he got sick, he would just deal with it. 

So far away from home, in a strange place, she likely didn’t want to lose the one comforting person she’d managed to encounter. 

As it turned out, she was just fine as long as he sat in the same room with his back turned to her. Neither of them spoke, in fact he wasn’t even certain that she would understand him if he did, but he seemed to keep the tears away, even as he helped her pull the Nohrian style dressing gown over her head, not wanting to pick her up again now that she was clean and dry.

“Isn’t it your turn now?” she asked in liltingly accented Nohrian, perfectly well spoken regardless of her age, looking up at him as he pulled away. “You’re covered in… In mud and grass.” 

“I don’t want to make you wait,” he said, only for her to shake her head fiercely, staring up at him with a defiant pout. 

He’d seen that look before, the look of a little princess who was used to getting her way. It was easy to picture Camilla several years younger wearing that same expression, her arms crossed over her chest, tapping her foot impatiently as she looked up at one of her nursemaids. 

Sighing, he nodded, unable to believe that he’d been cowed into submission by a girl so young but grateful regardless that he would have the chance to clean the night off of him. 

Not all of what the girl thought of as mud was mud, after all.

An image of the servant’s broken body and pale face flashed through his mind, and he shivered in spite of the heat of the room. 

He cleaned himself quickly, though his mind did wander while he did so, finding himself shockingly grateful that Father had arrived and charged him with the young girl’s safety and care. He could still feel the weight of another body in his arms, the cooling water in the tub doing nothing to erase the chill of seeing a man’s eyes lose their spark. 

It was something he’d seen before, on the face of Queen Arete as she’d laid dying of “illness”, an illness that Xander suspected had been the result of his father’s… 

His father’s lovers. 

But it was different when you were there, when there was nothing you could do to stop it, when the person was not dying in a bed with loved ones surrounding them but alone in a storming garden, a tray of sweet rolls ruined on the cobblestones beside them. It made him feel sick, but his stomach was empty enough that he felt nothing but bile build in the back of his throat, the rasping final breaths of that servant ringing inside of his head. 

“Mister?”

The voice of the young girl drew him from his spiraling thoughts, his hand grasping for the towel as he looked at her, glancing shyly at him from her place on a nearby chair. 

“I--” he began, his voice cracking embarrassingly. Rubbing his hand over his face, he started again, “I’m sorry if I worried you.”

“You just looked sad,” she said quietly. “Are you sad?”

He looked into her face, searching her expression. The nightgown dwarfed her, making her look tiny and waifish, especially next to the massive hearth, her form delicate, something in her eyes… searching, as if she was hoping that someone understood. 

She was so far from home, so alone, searching for anything familiar in another at all. 

What… 

What was she  _ doing _ here? 

“Turn around, please,” he muttered, waiting until she nodded before he stepped out of the tub and dried and dressed himself quickly, running his fingers through his wet hair. 

“I am sad,” he answered with a sigh, watching her as she turned back around to face him. “I had a very long day. I --” Xander paused and shook his head, “I don’t know your name.”

She hesitated, stepping towards him, bare feet nearly silent on the wooden planks of the floor. Reaching out, she took his hand and pulled him over to the couch against one of the walls. Scrambling up onto it, he followed, sitting beside her, her little hand still holding onto his tightly, as if he were the only thing grounding her to reality. 

“King Garon says my name is Corrin,” she said, staring at the tips of her rather than meet Xander’s eyes. “I think I had another name, but I don’t really remember. King Garon says I hit my head and that’s why I forgot.” 

His stomach turned, and he squeezed her hand, his mouth going dry as he thought about all the possible reasons she could be there. Furrowing his brow, Xander took another calming breath, reaching out with a shaking hand to gently place it on her head and making himself smile, “did my father tell you anything else?”

Her eyes widened in awe as she looked up at him, her hands reaching out to touch the locks of his golden hair. “You’re a prince, Mister?” 

He nodded and waited quietly for her to answer, her hands dropping back to her lap as her gaze fell, “he said that my Papa was a friend of his and that the Hosh-” She seemed to trip on the word,“Hoshidians betrayed him, so he took me to take care of me.” 

Little Corrin’s eyes once again sought Xander’s face, her grip on his hand tightening even further, though her voice dropped to barely a whisper, “I’m scared.” 

“It’s okay to be scared,” Xander whispered back, repeating the same words he used whenever Leo or Camilla woke up with a nightmare and came to him to curl up in bed. “You don’t have to be so brave, little princess.” 

He watched her eyes grow wide, starting to water again before she threw herself at him, burying her face in his chest and weeping. It was all he could do to hold her, his own throat growing tight and his eyes burning, wondering if… If Father had kidnapped her after the negotiations in Cheve had gone poorly.

If that was true…. 

If it were the honest truth…

Then everything would change. 

Holding onto her for dear life, he fought not to let fear overwhelm him, but lost the battle, his tears silently falling on her newly washed hair.

If she noticed at all, she didn’t say anything, just clung to him and continued to cry. 

 

~N~

 

He woke the next day with a sore neck, the little girl crushed to his chest as she laid on top of him. Looking around, he realized they must have slept the night in the room they had bathed in, and from the blanket thrown over him and the absence of the tub, he suspected the servants must have seen fit to let them sleep. 

Groggily, he placed a hand on her shoulder, watching her startle at the touch, though she relaxed quickly when she saw it was him. “Mister Prince,” she mumbled, “ohayou.” 

The word was clearly Hoshidan, confirming his nauseating suspicions, though he pushed the thought from his mind for the time being. She had needs to fulfil… And so did he. Father had entrusted him with the girl’s care, for the time being, a duty that he wouldn’t shirk or neglect, though it was more for her sake than his father’s. 

“Good morning,” he said, grunting as she shifted, clambering off of him onto the floor. “Are you hungry?”

Slowly, he pushed himself into a sitting position, then stood and stretched, his hair even more unruly than usual from his night spent on the couch while his hair was yet wet. Looking down at her, he saw her gazing back at him with an eager expression on her face, smiling widely, her enthusiasm managing to draw a smile from him. 

Reaching out one of his too-long arms, he took her hand and lead her from the room, realizing it must be quite early indeed if the halls were this quiet. He must not have missed much of the day at all, something for which he was grateful lest he face a scolding from Iago, the thought of whom made his stomach churn and his brows furrow deeply. 

“What’s your name?” came the question, distracting him from his concentrated navigation of the halls, giving him pause. 

“Xander,” he said simply. “I’m sorry, Corrin. I should have told you my name last night.”

“It’s okay. I was tired and wet and so were you,” her eyes never left him, even as he started walking once more, leading her towards the kitchens. “You’re very nice, Prince Xander. Maybe even the first nice person I’ve met.” 

“There are other nice people here,” he told her in a soft voice. “I’m sorry if Father scared you, little princess. His wife just died and I think he’s sad, as well. It makes him angry when he wouldn't have been so bad before.” 

In truth, even before Arete had died he had his darker moods, though her presence had seemed to mitigate the worst of it. Xander sometimes wondered what the cost of it was, though, if Azura’s suffering was truly worth it when the rest of the Nohrian nobility mocked and derided her position as a Princess through  _ marriage, _ not even related to the King by blood. 

But little Corrin didn’t need to know that, and he didn’t want her to think that his father’s mood swings were her fault. 

She was a child, just as innocent as Leo, Azura, and Camilla. 

Though he wondered for how much longer that would last. 

“I still think you’re the nicest,” she asserted, clearly not ready to be swayed. “I was crying and you didn’t even get mad at me, and you’re warm and have a soft voice.” 

He squeezed her hand and gave her a smile, feeling himself blush slightly underneath the admiration of her gaze. “Thank you,” he said, quickly looking away from her as he pushed open a door and swept her up into his arms so she wouldn’t have to walk on the stone. “You’re very nice, too.” 

She didn’t have the chance to say anything else, Camilla immediately rushing him the moment he entered, hitting him hard enough in the stomach when she hugged him that he staggered back slightly. A second later, he had another child clinging to his waist when little Leo followed the example of his older sister, clinging to his leg with reckless abandon, both of them calling his name and trying to speak to him in a chorus of childish exclamations. 

“I can’t hear you if you both talk at once,” he chided, looking up towards the nursemiads and the cooks, who were already bustling about and getting a small breakfast ready for Xander and his guest. “Use your manners, the both of you.” 

“Sorry, elder brother,” Camilla said just as Leo muttered an abashed sorry, both of their curious violet eyes lighting on Corrin, who was staring back at them with a similar expression on her face. 

“Camilla,” he said, nodding his head towards her, “Leo. This is Corrin, and she is father’s esteemed guest who will be eating with us this morning. She can study with us, as well, if she likes,” he said, eyes flickering towards the child in his arms. “It might not be very exciting, Corrin, but --”

“I don’t want to leave you,” the girl said obstinately, tugging at his collar. “You can put me down now, though.” 

He did just that, and she bowed low to both Camilla and Leo in turn, a perfectly polite Hoshidan bow, which Camilla returned with a curtsey. Leo, still clinging to Xander’s leg, hid behind him a bit shyly, though he returned her bow with a small nod, his young cheeks still rosy with sleep. 

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Corrin said as she straightened, looking towards the table and the food, though there was no recognition on her face…

Not that he thought there would be, when she was truly Hoshidan. 

“Come now,” Xander said, bending down to scoop Leo into his arms, his brother clinging to his collar, clearly unsure what to do with the stranger in their kitchen, “go sit down so we can break bread.” 

In no time at all, the three children were happily chatting away, disarmed by Camilla’s charming manner as she smiled widely, tangled mess of violet hair framing her face. It was difficult for him to believe she was nearly twelve years old, and he wondered how he could feel so many years her senior when he was not yet fifteen years of age. 

Drawn into his own mind as he rather aggressively buttered his toast, he was drawn from his thoughts by the quiet gossip of the maids behind him, their words causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end. 

“Did you hear that Celia is expecting?” one muttered, apparently unaware that he was listening, possibly assuming he was listening to his siblings, as he usually did. 

“He got another pregnant?” hissed the second. “But there are already three! Four if you count the false queen’s girl.” 

Anxiety once more swelled deep in Xander’s gut, his thoughts spiraling far beyond his control as he deliberately ignored their conversation. He told himself they were just rumors, but he knew well that Celia was one of his father’s lovers, a hopelessly devoted maid who spent all her days batting her eyes girlishly at him in a way that made Xander feel ashamed to be in her presence. Especially as Father had never spared him in any sense when it came to displaying his affections for the woman in public. 

But another child?

The thought panicked him. 

Already he barely spoke to Leo and Camilla. 

Would he speak to this one, at all?

Would Celia even care or… 

He thought of the way Father had shoved Corrin so unceremoniously into his arms the other night, dwelled on his comment about Xander being good with children. 

The thought made his brow furrow further, startled out of his wool gathering by the sudden sound of silence around the small table. 

“Elder brother?” Camilla asked, Xander shaking his head to clear it. 

“I’m fine,” Xander said, taking a soft breath, reaching out to cover her hand with his own for the briefest of moments. “I’m just thinking about the future, little sister. You don’t need to worry so much.” He widened his smile, leaning forward as he looked into her eyes, “if you keep worrying, your hair will go grey.”

“It will not!” she exclaimed, pouting, glaring at Leo as he laughed impishly. 

“Perhaps,” he said, leaning back, though he could still feel one pair of eyes on him… 

Corrin, something in her gaze oddly perceptive, reached out and took his hand, giving it a quick squeeze before she turned her attention back to Camilla to comfort her. 

He swallowed, smiling quietly to himself and resisting the urge to tug at his hair, not wanting to worry the little ones further. Instead, he forced himself to relax, leaning back in his seat and quietly eating his toast while he watched them chatter away. 

Eventually, breakfast ended and Xander lead them off to the study, Camilla leading Corrin by the hand. It did him good to see Camilla take such initiative, to really take the young girl under her wing, knowing that she was just beginning to become aware of how bizarre her life was… And of how she would fit in to the world around her. That she was already being told to pick up a weapon and fight, to dedicate her life to combat in the tradition of all Nohrian princesses was not surprising, but… 

But looking at Corrin, a little Hoshidan girl with courtly manners walking the halls of the castle, Xander couldn’t help but think that war may be a reality about to descend upon them all. 

The image of the dying servant flashed through Xander’s mind, churning his stomach again, only Leo’s fingers curling in his hair as he sat astride Xander’s shoulders keeping him grounded in reality. 

Was death going to be his only future? 

If he couldn’t handle a single domestic death, how could he expected to take another person’s life?

But he would be, wouldn't he? 

It’s exactly what Father would demand of him. 

And Xander would have no choice but to comply, as he had always compiled, as he always would comply. Perhaps… If he tried hard enough Father’s dark moods would vanish and he and his siblings would have him back, the way he was meant to be. Perhaps their little sibling, not yet born, would never have to know his dark moods and his angry voice, would never have to feel the sting of a slap or know what it was like to be dismissed in rage with Iago’s grin on their back. 

Perhaps. 

Still, he was here now, with these children, these children who had become his responsibility more than anyone else’s. 

So, pushing the thoughts from his mind he did what he always did and forced a smile, losing himself in helping them with their lessons, knowing that his own would come soon, much more somber and far more difficult. They were consistently the best part of his life, his guide and strength when he had lost all hope, and though there was no sun in Nohr to shine upon them, he swore he would always be that light for them so that when all other lights had vanished, they could look to him and see the path ahead. 


	3. He Who Would Be the Sun (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you ask me to break your hearts?
> 
> No.
> 
> Am I going to do it anyway?
> 
> Read on to find out.

The Great Hall was silent, little Corrin grasping his hand for dear life as she looked up into the face of the man who claimed to be her Father. That was not what Corrin herself had said, of course, Xander remembered it well. 

How could he forget when she had looked so vulnerable? 

But now here his father was claiming her as his own, as another of his bastard children, one repossessed from the Hoshidans after her mother had stolen her away. It was horrible that he could see the little princess slowly believing it, the lie sinking into her until it was indistinguishable from the truth for all that it was worth. 

And yet the worst part was that he would let her believe it to spare her Father’s ire… And because he himself already felt protective of her, as protective as he ever had of Camilla, Leo. or even Azura. In all but blood he was already her Big Brother, and though he knew she must have been noble he otherwise had no idea where she had come from and… Truthfully, he and his siblings were all she had. 

Especially when his father confirmed his worst fears as he rose slowly from the throne and turned his eyes upon the various nobles and soldiers gathered to hear him speak. He looked grim, his fair brow gathered over his dark eyes as he scanned the faces of the assembled, and for a moment he almost seemed his old self, though it was fleeting. 

“Of course, they attempted to use my beloved daughter to force me into an arrangement unfavorable for our people,” King Garon spread his hands, his voice rough and grim. “I was forced to turn against Dynast Sumeragi in self defense, and he lays behind me, slain, with only his widow and his orphaned eldest son - not yet a man - to lead their people.” 

Xander willed himself not to tremble, but he could feel the eyes of all of his siblings on his back, particular little Azura, gaze particularly penetrating. Everything in the room seemed to sink away except for his father and Corrin’s hand, grounding him to the dark marble tile and the moment itself, his anchor. 

“It is regrettable, and not at all what I would have wished, but Hoshido has left us no choice,” his father rumbled, his voice sending an echo like distant thunder through the nobles assembled. “Nohr must take up arms against those who attempt to fetter and control us, against those whose lack of compassion cost Nohr not one queen, but two!” 

A resounding cheer was the response, though Xander could only feel the churning in his stomach and hear only the rushing in his ears as the world spun underneath his feet. 

War.

He had known since the moment he’d realized Corrin was actually Hoshidan that this would happen, but he had tried so hard to deny it. In truth, he’d listened to enough while standing behind his father’s chair in meetings with Iago and the landholders to know that Nohr did not have the food or resources to wage war against a place as wealthy as Hoshido in the East. 

His grip tightened on Corrin’s hand and he took a breath, listening as his father built his campaign against the Hoshidans on the backs of the dead. King Garon’s swayed the entire room, each of the nobles offering cheers and oaths of assistance in turn as their sense of patriotism burned within their frenzied eyes. Things quickly devolved into a celebration, Xander slipping out with his siblings in tow, taking them far away from places they could be trampled or easily overwhelmed. 

He told himself that he should stay, that his presence may be required, but as Leo crawled up into his lap after he sat down to take a break, Xander realized he could not possibly leave them. Especially not when his eyes brushed over Corrin, who looked uncertain and more terrified than even he felt. 

Reaching out his hand as gesturing her forward, she scrambled up onto the seat beside him, Camilla quickly following her lead. Before long, the little princess was pressed into her side as Leo dozed on his lap, bereft of his usual afternoon nap, Camilla leaning her cheek against the top of Corrin’s head and staring at him. 

“Is Corrin really our little sister?” she asked him, prompting him to swallow thickly, Corrin’s eyes more penetrating than the simple question alone could ever be. 

“If father says she’s our sister, then shen is,” Xander said, reaching out with the hand that did not cradle Leo to his chest to tuck a strand of dark hair behind Corrin’s ear, “and if she’s our sister, what does that mean?”

“We protect her,” Camilla said proudly, as Leo shifted sleepily against Xander’s chest and looked up into his face. 

“We love her,” he said, far too stern for a six year old boy, frown on his round face. 

“Yes,” he said with a small nod of his head, smiling down at three of them, “you’re both right. But we must also remember that we can rely on her as much as she can rely on us. We’re family, and family doesn’t abandon one another.”

“So you’ll always be here to protect me…?” Corrin asked before either of the others could respond, hugging his arm as if were keeping her afloat in the ocean. “Right, Elder Brother?” 

Perhaps it was. 

Without hesitation, he cupped her face with his free hand and smiled at her, his chest swelling with indignation unlike any he had ever felt before. Barely managing to speak past the lump that had formed in his throat, he responded in a wavering voice, one that must not be very reassuring at all. “Yes, little princess. I will protect you. It’s my duty as your brother and…” 

He closed his eyes and breathed out slowly out, “and as the Crown Prince of Nohr.” 

Corrin’s eyes grew wide, starting to water, a knock on the door and the sound of armor against the floor cutting her off. Standing up, Xander handed Leo to Camilla, looking down at her and cupping her face with both his hands, pressing a kiss to her forehead, certain that they were here for him.

“Watch them for me, Camilla,” he muttered in her ear as he pulled away. “I’m trusting you.”

Violet eyes glinting with fiery determination, she held a confused little Leo more closely to her chest, the image filling Xander’s mind as he turned around to find himself face to face with Sir Gunter. The man, greying honey brown hair and piercing eyes lined with exhaustion, looked him over and then sighed heavily, motioning for him to step forward after delivering the most stiff bow Xander had ever seen in his young life. 

“My Prince,” he said rigidly. “His Majesty requires your presence in the Throne Room.” His pale eyes darted over Xander’s shoulder to look at the children before turning his attention back to Xander. “Would you like me to send a maid to watch over them?”

Xander nodded as he stepped forward, his words caught in his throat, unable to speak for fear that his voice would crack. He quickly brushed past the man, his hands only remaining stable because his nails bit into his calloused palms, his jaw set stubbornly as he walked down the hallway, steps echoing loudly… Though the sound couldn’t overpower his heartbeat. 

Step, breathe, step, breathe, the hall stretching on forever until he stood before the doors to the Great Hall, forcing himself to walk through them to an entire room still filled with nobles. Their eyes bored into him, and he could almost feel some of them wishing that Camilla’s mother had managed to successfully poison him, or that perhaps Leo might one day usurp his position…. Sweet, too-serious Leo, who enjoyed having his hair petted and his hand held but would never admit it, whose mother was attempting to use him as a tool of the court. Studious, bold, brave Camilla, who was being forced into a mold that didn’t quite fit her, told that she had to live as the perfect Princess when she was happiest sewing and spending time chasing after Leo to wipe away his tears when he skinned his knees. 

Siblings he loved.

And now Corrin and this rumored baby, two more little siblings he knew he would throw himself upon the hearth for, that he would let the fires consume him for if only it would protect them from Father’s ire. A father who had never been this way before, a father to whom the shadows seemed more fitting, though he had once been compared to the moon bathing Nohr in light, their only hope in the cold, wet, darkness. 

Father, who stood uncompromising at the end of the hallway, staring down at him with irritation etched into the weather-worn lines of his face. 

“You left, Xander,” he drawled, his arms crossed sternly over his chest. “I did not dismiss you.”

He opened his mouth, no words coming out, all those eyes still searing him until he could feel himself melt underneath their gazes. The world felt heavy, so heavy that it would drag him down into the muted orange carpet, and he almost hoped that it crushed him and turned him into nothing more than a stain before his father. He shook like a leaf in a winter breeze, Iago like a skeletal tree looming over him in the darkness, grinning like a Dire Wolf about to sink its teeth into its kill. 

Caught in their shadows, he prepared to humiliate himself again, to prostrate himself, until a still, small voice rang out in the back of his mind as clear as if it had been spoken directly into his ear. 

_ You have to protect them.  _

The rushing he could hear like a summer storm threatening to swallow him whole didn’t vanish, but he suddenly felt apart from the situation. The eyes of the people on his back felt distant, as if they were much smaller, something small and harmless, like the tiny rabbits that often scrounged the palace lawns in the spring. It didn’t make his father any less frightening, nor did it make Iago’s ego and penetrating smile fail to intimidate him, but… 

But when he thought of what was at stake…

“I departed temporarily to see that the young ones left the room, Father,” he said with a bow, his voice still wavering with terror, far from confident. “It was always my intention to return to you. I understand how important the coming war effort will be and that you may wish for my education to change in the wake of this grave announcement.”

Father looked impressed, the briefest flash of sincerity in his stormy purple eyes rising to the surface before a small smile curled his stone lips. 

In spite of himself, Xander felt a surge of pride, refusing to drop his gaze even though it made him want to throw up to have those eyes scrutinizing him. He couldn’t afford to disappear any longer, to creep along corridors in the night trying to save men dying from freak accidents. There was too much at stake, and if he were to shield his siblings and be his father’s sword hand, then that’s what he would do. 

For Nohr.

For Nohr, if nothing else. 

It was his duty.

He was Crown Prince.  

The thought settled in his stomach like he had swallowed a stone, and for the first time he could feel the weight of that title, something that he had never really given a thought to before now. The crown on his father’s brow would one day be his, and he would spend the rest of his life feeling these eyes on him. He would have to balance the role between brother and Prince as he would have to balance the role between father and King, seamlessly, without ever letting down any of Nohr’s citizens. 

Though though terrified him, but… 

Truthfully, most everything terrified him. 

Especially the idea that he would have to let blood sink into his hands, to wear his hands raw until they were soldier’s hands, to change himself utterly from what he was and sacrifice some of the things most important to him for Nohr. All for something he had never been given a choice in, for something he had been born into. 

But when he thought about what war would mean, about the people suffering, about his siblings, he knew that there were other parts of him that could never abandon anyone. So as his father spoke, Xander walked towards his side, crossing his arms over his chest and raising his head high for the first time in his own memory, not hiding from those terrifying eyes, instead telling himself they were nothing more than rabbits and that he was a wolf. 

Even though he knew he was the most rabbit-hearted boy to ever inherit the responsibility of Nohr’s throne. 

 

**~N~**

 

“You’ve been busier, lately, Elder Brother,” Camilla said, clambering up into bed beside him and slipping under the covers. 

One of the nursemaids followed after her, carrying a tray filled with various breakfast foods, setting it on a tray on the mattress as Corrin and Leo both ran, laughing, into the room. They both looked a mess, their hair much messier than little Camilla’s… Though she had clearly already had her hair brushed through. 

Blinking his eyes, he looked between each of them, brow furrowed as it so often had been in the last few weeks. “What’s all this?” he asked them, his eyes bouncing between each of his little siblings as Leo determinedly climbed up into his lap, grasping for a piece of bacon with his tiny hands. “Is there some special occasion I forgot about?”

Camilla looked at him as if he were crazy, her dark eyes, so much like father’s but still filled with kindness, darting briefly to Leo. The little boy snorted, muttering through large bites of bacon as he stared up into Xander’s face. “It’s your birthday, stupid.” 

Xander frowned, about to say something just as Corrin reached out to tap his forehead. “I don’t remember who said it, but someone told me that if you frown like that all the time, your face gets stuck that way.”

“There’s simply no way that’s true, little princess,” Xander said, taking the bacon Leo insistently shoved in his face, holding it limply at his side. “All this is for me?” 

“Of course!” Camilla said, reaching up to throw her arms around his neck, his heart fluttering as she kissed his cheek with nothing short of the most adorable sisterly affection. “We love you, Elder Brother!”

Corrin grinned, joining Camilla in hanging from his neck and laughing into his ear. It was painful, but as his chest swelled with more and more emotion, wrapping his arms around his sisters tightly, he couldn’t really find himself caring about the girlish giggling and the ringing in his ears. 

The last few weeks had been harder for him than anything else he had ever done, intensive studying and training from the earliest parts of the morning until late at night. He knew that it would only get worse as he grew older, and he had not been spared the rod just because he was the Prince, Sir Gunter and the other Knights of the realm driving him hard in preparation for active combat. 

But today… Today he hadn’t been woken up early. 

Today he had his squirming siblings in his arms. 

“Eat your bacon,” Leo said sternly, drawing Xander’s gaze, “or I’ll eat it all for you.” 

He laughed, a snort at first, though it quickly mounted from a chuckle into a fully belly laugh, eyes tearing up at the scolding expression on his little brother's face. So young, and already he had become a master of scolding his siblings, just like the dour former Head Maid turned Chief Sorceress, his mother. 

Leaning forward, he pressed and embarrassing kiss to Leo’s head, ignoring the ick as he pulled away, doing as he was told. 

Eating in silence as they chattered on about how their weeks had been, Leo bragging about how good he was at reading, loosening up in the presence of vivacious Corrin and bubbly Camilla. Their conversation meandered, from everything to Camilla learning to make proper needlework embroidery to how much the suits of armor impressed Corrin, who swore she would one day be a knight…. Just like Xander. Xander didn’t have the heart to tell her that he wasn’t quite a knight yet, her face excited as she talked about how she had been learning so many things -- from her tutors, from Camilla and Leo… All carefully avoiding the subject of Father. 

By the time the meal was over, Xander’s spirits were significantly lifted, even as the nursemaid ushered them all out and other servants gathered the remnants of the little meal. How easily he could imagine Camilla instigating this and Leo insisting on bacon, Corrin enthusiastically throwing herself into learning the ropes and how to navigate the castle from the other two. His heart ached from the amount of time he’d spent with them before, but he pushed it from his thoughts… 

At least until he had finished dressing, the door to his room opening to reveal a flustered and furious looking Iago. 

“Prince Xander --” he began in his high pitched, whining voice, one that Xander was quickly growing to hate. 

“You should at least knock, Iago,” he muttered, the man completely ignoring him as he reached out to seize Xander’s shoulders, bony fingers digging into the flesh there. “What in the name of the Dusk Dragon is going on?”

“Princess Azura --” he managed, Xander’s stomach dropping into his feet. “She’s been taken. There was a ransom note left this morning. Your father demands your presence immediately.” 

His teeth snapped together when the words came out of Iago’s mouth, pushing his father’s retainer away from him and setting off down the hall at a sprint. Panic boiled in his stomach, though he didn’t see her and they were never particularly close. She was around Camilla’s age, a child, lost and alone, and a ransom note…. 

To use a girl in such a way… 

The thoughts thundered through his mind as if he weren’t little more than a boy himself, skidding to a stop outside of his father’s private office, the door heaved open before he could even knock. 

His father stared down at him for only a moment before he gripped Xander’s arm and pulled him harshly into the room, the door slamming behind them. 

“Father--” he began, a single glare silencing the words in his throat before he could continue, entire body going rigid as he was caught in the gravity of his father’s black eyes. 

“What I am about to say, you will not breathe a word of to anyone or the consequences will be upon your head.”

The words felt like a hammer to the chest, but Xander nodded, crossing his arms and trying to tread water while he didn’t wilt underneath his father’s gaze. Instead of speaking, he managed to nod, standing straight and at attention… Which seemed to be enough for his father for the moment. 

“Iago must have told you about Azura,” the King said, sitting down in the chair behind his desk with a heavy thud, “and I know you’re a smart boy, so you must have realized by now that Corrin isn’t truly your sister.” 

Xander didn’t like where this was going, his pulse pounding in his hears, though he nodded once more in affirmation. How could he not know? If one knew how to speak to children, they were a wealth of observations and information that most people overlooked. 

He thought he’d spent more time around them than he had adults until this point, frankly. 

“They took Azura,” the King continued, “as retaliation for taking Corrin.” 

It was quiet until he managed to respond, his voice little more than a whisper when he did, harsh and disbelieving in the quiet office. Could his father even hear his voice over the sound of his own heartbeat?

“Retaliation?” 

“She is Sumeragi’s daughter,” Garon explained, waving his hand. “I took her as repayment from all the family he has cost us.” The man’s eyes fell onto his hands, placed unmovingly onto the desk’s surface, the glowstone casting his skin in sickly green. “For Arete,” he rumbled, then paused, “and for Katerina.” 

The name was like a shock to the chest, Xander frozen as he stared at his father. 

So little did he mention mother that just the whisper of her name left the room filled with static, the hairs on Xander’s arms standing on end. 

It was the mention of that name, if anything else, that made Xander believe that Father was sincere this time. 

“So they took Azura because you stole… You stole…” he shook his head, his nickname for her especially fitting and oddly heavy now that the truth hung in the air between him. “Will they hurt Azura?”

“No,” Garon said, waving his hand dismissively. “Nor will I hurt their precious princess. You must train her, Xander. Already, I see that she trusts you. None other is more fit to oversee her education, and in teaching her, you will reaffirm your own lessons. She must fight should they ever send their damn ninja for her.” 

He nodded, understanding now why the war had started, his stomach a twisted mess, the bacon only making it worse, in retrospect. His father had… Been trying to avenge Queen Arete and Mother, hadn’t he? This entire time, that’s what had driven his anger, so much so that he’d alienated his children in the process. 

Would ending this war bring Father back?

Would it heal that gap? 

If… If he just… 

A heavy hand suddenly fell upon his shoulder, and Xander flinched, catching the barest flash of guilt in his father’s eyes as he looked up into that face. There was no malice there right now, and once more his father was the man he had been before all of this had happened, before Hoshido had turned its back on Nohr and Mother had… had died because of it. 

Swallowing, Xander held that gaze, not sure when he would see it again, if he ever saw it at all… So tired and sad. So worn with the weight of the entire country bearing down on him and year’s worth of regret and anguish. 

“You must promise me, Xander,” Father said roughly. “You will watch over your siblings and Nohr. You will do your duty and protect the people from Hoshido no matter what. Be a stronger man than I am. Be… be the better man, when the time comes.” 

“Yes,” he managed, willing his voice not to waver somehow, “of course, Father, as you wish. For you, I will do anything.”

The fleeting smile was genuine, but that face returned to stone the moment he pulled away. 

“Good. Then you are dismissed.”

Reeling as if he’d been physically hit, Xander bowed to his father, his hands balled into fists at his side before he turned around to stride from the room. He was topped only by a soft word from his father, a single command of ‘wait’. 

“Yes?” he asked, not daring to turn around, his hand gripping the doorknob with bruising intensity. 

“Happy Birthday, Xander,” the words were soft, ringing in Xander’s head as he walked from the room and shut the door behind him, the sun parting the clouds for a single moment and giving him hope. 

Hand still pressed against the mahogany door, he stared at the tiled floor below him, his brow furrowed deeply, knowing then that he would have to be sun to the entire country if he ever wanted to see his father smile again. 


	4. Siegfried

Moonlight spilled in through the curtains, Xander throwing an arm over his eyes to try to steal a few more moments of fleeting sleep. Of course it was futile, as it was always futile, his mind active the moment it disengaged from the black fog of his dreams and into the waking beyond. 

Sitting up, duvet pooling around his waist, he ran a hand through his unruly hair and took in the muffled world around him. Everything was quiet this time of the morning, the only sound that of the crackling fire in his hearth and the branches of trees scratching against the thick glass outside of his window. For a moment he simply soaked it all in, grateful that he would be leaving Windmire for an extended stay at the Northern Fortress quite soon, unable to stand the feeling of stagnation that greeted him with the first beams of moonlight every day. 

As he stretched, the sound of knocking on his door drew his attention and snatched him from his thoughts. Carefully, he pulled pushed his arms back through the nightshirt and opened the door only for a tiny, tired Elise to cling to his leg, burying her face in the fabric of his pants. Xander sank to his knees, reaching out for her as her tiny arms wrapped around his neck in a hug, her hair a complete mess as she nuzzled into his chest. 

“Up?” she asked sweetly, pulling away to look into his face. 

“Good morning,” he said as he pressed a kiss to her hairline, standing back up as he cast her nursemaid a smile, precocious Leo staring from behind her skirt. “To you, too, Brother.” 

“Good morning,” little Leo replied, perfectly polite, the barest hints of a smile on his lips. “Your hair is still a mess.”

Xander looked over his brother for a moment, then laughed, leaning forward and balancing Elise on one arm as he pulled lightly at the tag on the back of Leo’s collar, “and your shirt is inside out.”

He watched as Leo flushed and recoiled, pulling away to sprint back off down the hallway, past an amused looking Camilla, her arms crossed lightly over her chest. “Oh dear,” she breathed, laughing, “do you have to tease him so, Xander?” 

Walking over to her and pressing a polite good morning kiss to her hairline, he pulled away with a smile still playing across his lips. “If I don’t teach him to tolerate a bit of light teasing, no one ever will, Camilla. Did you sleep well?” 

“Well enough,” she said as she ruffled Elise’s unkempt bed hair, “but it’s getting to be drafty.” Her eyes turned serious as she looked up into his face, reaching out a hand to cup his cheek as deep concern filled her dark eyes and her tugged into a small frown. “You leave today…. Don’t you?”

The words sat uncomfortably in his stomach, grip on Elise tightening even as he leaned into Camilla’s touch. “Yes,” he muttered, “I do. Father wishes it, and so it must be done.”

“But so soon?” she demanded, fighting to keep the tremble from her voice.“You’re barely of age, Xander. If… If Father waited a year… I could … I could go with you.”

“It will be fine,” Xander said, his voice practiced and resolute in a way he never could have imagined it would be even a year ago. “I will be fine. Don’t you trust me, Camilla?” 

She glowered at him, her eyes flashing with the fire that had imbued them ever since she’d bonded with a Wyvern Chick and began her own training. He did not fail to notice the way her hands balled into fists at her side and the set of her jaw, though she softed her expression slightly when her eyes flickered to a confused little Elise. “You know that’s not what this is about. I trust you completely, I just… I …”

Camilla trailed off and quickly looked away, her lip trembling as tears clung to her dark lashes, though she quickly blinked them away. Stepping towards her, Xander embraced Camilla, holding her as tightly as he could without dropping Elise as he buried his face in her hair. “You love me and you don’t want to lose another sibling,” he said quietly, feeling her nod, though she said nothing even as her fingers tangled into the fabric of his nightshirt. “I will come back, Camilla. I promise you, I will come back.” 

“You need to,” she muttered, “or I’ll never forgive you, Brother. Ever.” 

She quickly pulled away after that, turning around just as Leo walked back into the room, reaching for his hand. He pouted, disgruntled, but let her take it, casting an annoyed look in Xander’s direction, though it only earned him a chuckle and an affectionate ruffle of the hair as Xander passed him and handed Elise back to the nursemaid. 

“I’ll be in the kitchens to eat with you shortly,” he said, kissing the back of Elise’s hand as he parted with her, her wide, chubby face lighting up with glee and affection. 

“I’ll hold you to that,” Camilla said, tugging Leo along. “Come, dear,” she cooed at him, “let’s go get breakfast.” 

The moment the door closed behind them, Xander deflated, looking at himself in the full length mirror against the opposite wall. Right now he didn’t look particularly prince-like, dwarfed in his nightshirt, worn training trousers hanging loosely off his legs, pale hair a mess of tangled ringlets glinting vaguely yellow in the light of the glowstones. 

Still, as he carefully dressed for the day, calling for a butler to assist him with his armor, bedraggled brother Xander quickly transformed into the Crown Prince, composed cavalier. Black armor glinted like ink, the vibrant purple cloth and gold that served to accent his appearance casting him in the role of royalty. Most telling was the circlet that sat upon his brow, black metal somehow making his face look as pale as the moon’s surface and just as severe, a furrow forming between his brows. 

Releasing a breath, he left his room behind him, uncertain of when he would see it again, wary of the stares of the servants as he passed them. He hated the sound his armor made, drawing attention to him at every turn, making it impossible for him to hug the walls and cling to the shadows as he once had. Xander would be lying if he said he didn’t miss those days, the days he was the wilting violet rabbit-prince of Nohr, but it was something he could ill afford to be.

Especially when he pictured the face of each of his siblings and his father and thought of all the Nohrian lives depending on him. 

Those thoughts vanished the moment he swept into the kitchens and he saw Leo making faces at Elise, who had managed to get her porridge in his hair. Camilla was already attempting to groom it out with a wet kerchief, looking up when he walked into the room and smiling. 

“Very dashing, Xander,” she said, “I’m sure you’ll break hearts.” 

He shook his head, stepping towards Elise’s side and taking her spoon from her. She giggled when she saw him though made a face when he leaned forward to wipe the porridge off of her round cheeks. 

“No!” she protested, pouting when he didn’t listen to her. 

“Elise, princesses do not run about with porridge on their faces,” he said softly. “Besides, you’re going with Camilla and Leo to stay with Corrin while I’m gone.”

“Cone?” Elise asked cheerfully. “I like Cone! Cammy and Leo will come, too?” 

“Yes,” he said as he pulled away, straightening the bow in her hair. “Just be good for Camilla, will you? Remember that you need to wear shoes when you go outside.” 

She made a face but didn’t immediately argue with him, her small brows knitting together in confusion after a moment, “but where you go? You won’t visit Cone?” 

“I can’t,” he said evenly, “but please tell her that I love her very much.” 

She pouted at him but didn’t protest, even though he could see that she wanted to. 

Reaching out, he brushed his hand gently over her head before leaning forward to place a kiss on her brow. “Next time, Elise,” he muttered, “but Father has a very important mission for me, so I have to go.”

She pouted at him, an adorable expression, but otherwise made no noise before turning solemnly back to her food. Sometimes she was far too serious for a toddler, and Xander was certain Camilla would say that was all his fault. 

But that was okay, as long as he could keep her safe and happy. . 

A knock on the door was all that preceded the entry of Thorbald and Evangeline, his loyal retainers, Thorbald’s eyes immediately seeking him out. “Milord, we have the package secured and ready for transport to the Shrine of the Dusk Dragon. Are you prepared?”

“I am,” Xander said firmly, drawing up to his full height, which was… Well, not as much as he would like, frankly; Father had been several inches taller than him at sixteen years of age. “Camilla… Please make sure Leo doesn’t set anything on fire this time.” 

“Corrin did it,” Leo said obstinately, Camilla shushing him gently as she nodded, stroking her fingers through his hair, and Xander could see his little brother melting into the touch in spite of himself. 

“Love you,” Elise said, holding out her arms for Xander, and one last time he reached out and embraced her, wishing that he could stay behind more than anything as he turned to face his retainers. 

 

~N~

 

This far North, it was colder than it was in Windmire, where Xander had spent all of his youth. They had to build their fire small to maintain it and then huddle close once the moon began to fall and it became too difficult to do much other than sit beneath the blankets and talk to occupy their minds.

They’d been traveling for over a week and had already left the horses behind to be cared for at the last city before the land turned to wilderness and they’d been forced to continue on foot. Out there, there was nothing but wolves and the occasional shambling corpse, which Thorbald assured him would become more common as they neared the Shrine. 

Xander was decidedly not looking forward to that, as non-enchanted weapons seemed to do very little to them, leaving Evangeline their only effective method of destroying the beats. 

All of this was made worse, of course, by the package itself. 

It was long, narrow, and heavier than anything Xander had ever held in his entire life… And he was used to practicing on horseback with claymores. They’d had to carry it in shifts just to make sure that one of them didn’t become overtaxed, making their journey more difficult that it strictly needed to be… But of course, this package had to make it to the Shrine. 

Father had ordered it, and had entrusted Xander with this task before he was expected to join the troops in the conflict with the Ice Tribe. He and his retainers would have to complete it or he would face Father’s wrath, and then what would happen to Elise, Leo, and Camilla? Would Corrin be stuck alone in her tower forever if he couldn’t properly instruct her and help her escape?

The thoughts made his stomach twist as he stared into the dancing flames, flickering every time the wind battered them. Evangeline tended them, her dark green eyes occasionally flickering toward Xander, lips pressed into a tight line before she finally spoke, the withering look Thorbald gave her not escaping Xander’s attention. 

“You look like you swallowed something foul, milord,” she said, “of course, that’s a typical reaction to Thorbald’s cooking…” 

“It’s not Thorbald’s cooking,” Xander said quickly, rubbing his hands together to keep them warm, “I suppose I just have my mind on the task at hand.” 

“Aye,” Thorbald grumbled quietly, “that’s probably the best out here in the North. Mother was a member of the Tribe before she met my Pa and settled down outside of Windmire back before the Blight. She’d tell stories about how dangerous these lands are.” 

“Everywhere in Nohr is dangerous,” Evangeline objected, “from the smallest, poorest inn in the most secluded farming hamlet in the land to the spires of Krakengard itself. You can’t escape danger any more than we can escape this damn wind and the hunger gnawing the pits of our stomachs.”

“Such a cheery lass,” Thorbald said with a snort, turning his pale eyes back towards Xander. “Don’t pay her any mind, Your Highness. She likes to try to scare people, and I don’t see why you’d be an exception.” 

“I don’t expect special treatment,” Xander said simply, wrapping his arms more tightly around himself, an awareness prickling at the back of his neck. “I’m a soldier like anyone else, and not even a particularly good one. I’m sure that’s why Father sent me chasing to the Shrine rather than directly to the Front. He knows I wouldn’t last a moment.” 

“So there’s more behind that pretty blonde hair than I thought,” Evangeline said with a laugh, the sound echoing so far that it caused Xander to flinch. “You’re a soft thing, mi--”

“Evan,” Thorbald’s said sharply, cutting her off, “it’s your duty to protect and serve the Crown Prince. That doesn’t give you license to speak poorly of him.”

Xander didn’t respond, pressing his lips more tightly together as the two of them began to bicker quietly. He had grown used to it by now, Evangeline’s doubts, Thorbald’s quiet, gruff way of coddling him, both attitudes he was sorely sick of. Neither of them seemed to remember that this was his duty and that they had only been permitted to join him because of their station, and nothing he had done seemed to remind either of them of that fact. 

So he resigned himself to being treated like a child even though he had already come of age, and focused his mind on the mission at hand. 

Closing his eyes, he let their voices fade away, focusing instead on the sounds around them. There was the fire, the sound of the howling wind, the distant creaking of ice, and then… Footsteps on the freshly fallen snow. Eyes going wide, Xander stood and drew his blade and rose to his feet, staring out into the darkness, the blanket that had been around his shoulders falling to the ground. 

Already, he could feel Thorbald and Evangeline’s eyes on him, though he gave them no mind. There was something there, something creeping in the shadows, stalking them, but of course now it seemed to be nowhere in sight. For a moment he simply stood there, wind whipping and his hair and turning his skin red and raw before he sank back to the ground and sighed heavily. 

“I apologize,” he said, “I thought I heard something. It must simply by my imagination.” 

Both of them muttered words too vague for him to understand, though they seemed generally dismissive, but Xander was certain of what he had heard. Somewhere, out there in the darkness, something was stalking them, and he was not sure whether or not they could outrun it or if they would be forced to stand their ground and fight. 

Predictably, the next few days passed without incident. 

It was only when they finally began to descend a hill onto a roughly cobbled path covered by snow that Xander’s senses began to prick again. He was almost certain there was something wrong, his anxiety growing more keen every passing moment as the three of them approached the shape of a massive, dark building in the distance. Here, it seemed the snow started to whip about them more violently, howling like it was alive, Thorbald ahead of him stumbling under the burden of the package. 

“We’re almost there!” he shouted as Xander’s fingers drummed nervously against the hilt of his blade. “Just hold on and we’ll be able to lay this all to rest inside of the Shrine!” 

It loomed above them, and Xander wasn’t sure whether it was cut from black stone or whether it simply looked so dark in the blizzard that surrounded them. 

“Are you sure we can keep going?” Evangeline shouted back at him from her place in the lead, Xander cautiously bringing up the rear at his own insistence. “We might have to stop and wait for this to die down!”

“Aye!” Thorbald said, slowing his pace, a sudden feeling of dread filling Xander at the sight. “Best to wait it out, Evan! Better not freeze to death in this!”

“No!” Xander called out over the winds, ashamed when his voice cracked but continuing on regardless. “Can’t either of you feel it? If we stop now, we’ll never make it!”

He shook his head, pressing onward, more certain than ever that he was making the correct decision when the instinct in the back of his mind began to sing, bright and warm. So close to this Shrine he felt… Something, something stirring inside of him, though he didn’t fully recognize what it was. 

Xander only knew that he was right. 

“Prince Xander, are you crazy?” Evangeline shouted at him, reaching out to grab his arm as he attempted to pass her. “Don’t you see what’s happening? If we keep going, you’re condemning us to death!” 

“Remaining still is the condemnation!” He managed, trying to remain as calm as possible. “There is something out there, Evangeline! That something is trying to kill us! I can sense it!”

“Milord, there is nothing out there! This place is almost completely abandoned, except for the undead, and if they were here, we’d know!” Evangeline’s hands fell heavily onto his shoulders, her dark hair whipping around her face, “you need to give it up!” 

This time, anger did burn inside of him, his mouth opening to protest when he saw it -- a massive shadow, vaguely humanoid, with glowing red eyes looming just above her. Without thinking, he slammed his shoulder into her, sending her careening to the ground as a pair of obsidian claws tore through his heavy winter cloak and the light leather travel armor he wore. 

Xander cried out, stumbling backwards as fire ripped through his body, his blood dripping onto the snow below him. He only barely managed to keep himself upright, eyes wide as the creature advanced on him, coming closer and closer until he could see that it was indeed vaguely reptilian, its teeth dripping saliva that melted the snow around it and sent steam spiraling into the night air. 

Bracing himself for death, Xander stared definitely into the monster’s face, though his every limb shook with terror. It was only then that a ball of lightning came from somewhere, his eyes snapping towards Evangeline, still lying in the snow, though she was slowly struggling to her feet. Only a few steps away, Thorbald had dropped the package in the snow and loosed his axe, advancing on the monster with a war cry that echoed through the long, dark, night. 

He panted, eyes burning with tears from the pain of the gashes across his chest, the cold wind tearing at the open wounds and making him feel like the edges were made of glass. Something buzzed at the back of his mind as he grasped the sword at his side, intending to join in the fight even in his condition, refusing to succumb and die, leaving his siblings behind, disappointing his father, and leaving Corrin without someone to guide her. Rage and pain pumped through him as he sucked in a shuddering breath and tossed the sword to the ground, a pulse shaking his bones and making them ache as his eyes snapped towards the package. 

Another pulse shook him, his heartbeat slowing as he stared at it, taking one step at a time towards it, barely aware of Thorbald’s cries of protest over the screaming wind. 

“Prince Xander! Prince! Stop, that sword is dangerous, you can’t--!!” The sound of claws against metal cut off his cries with a grunt as Xander fell to his knees, tearing at the brown paper wrapped around the long item. 

A sword, just as Thorbald had said, made of a pitch black metal Xander had never seen before in his life. Its center was hallow, and it had a red gem embedded near the hilt, one that looked like an eye, staring up at him and seeming to beckon as the pulse moved through him again, more powerful now that he could see the massive weapon. 

“Milord, stop!” Evangeline called, her voice enough to make Xander’s decision for him, more certain of this than he had been of anything in his life. 

He reached out, his hand grasping the hilt tightly, entire arm lighting up with violet energy that flowed into and around the blade. Immediately, something inside of him began to sing, like the world itself had fallen into place around him, and as the blood from his chest dripped onto the gemstone below him, the song turned into a chorus in his own mind. 

There was a flash, brief and bright, and Xander found himself filled with new energy. The pain of the wound was still there, but somehow he was able to seperate it from the present and the task at hand. He could see clearly how much Thorbald and Evangeline were struggling, unequipped to deal with this monster alone, spells missing their mark, greataxe suddenly more of a shield than a weapon. 

“Fiend!” Xander shouted, feeling another surge of energy fill his body as those red eyes turned to him, his fear somehow only fueling the power inside of him as the blade glowed more rightly, violet turning to blood red as its light caught on the snow. “Come and fall on my blade, you wretch!” 

The sword felt light in his hand as he charged, hefting with one hand what he could barely drag with two before. This time, it was his cry that filled the hills as he drove forward, the cry of the monster as his blow landed true fueling his desire to defend Thorbald and Evangeline, the belief that he could actually do something swelling to fill his chest. 

Blow by blow, the creature drew back as Xander moved forward, Thorbald and Evangeline far safer now that he’d taken this blade in hand. At last, he watched the monster’s legs buckle and lifted the sword high above his head, letting out a mighty cry as he brought it down on its neck before it could move, the world around him seeming to pulse as it let out a last ear-splitting cry and dissolved into glittering black smoke. 

Xander panted heavily, staring down at the place the draconic monstrosity had been moments before. Slowly, the glow receded, the energy sapped from Xander as the pain and cold returned to him, barely managing to drag his body around to look his retainers in the face. 

“Good,” he said, feeling pleased that he had managed to defend them, that he had protected someone for the first time in his life, “you’re both okay.”

And with that, he collapsed face first into the snow, exhausted. 

 

~N~

 

He woke to find himself in the Northern Fortress, of all places, dressed in only a thin shirt and a pair of trousers. Underneath the shirt, he could feel bandages constricting his chest, panic filling his mind as he remembered the snow filled landscape and the monster, and then… 

“The sword --” he breathed, eyes scanning the room and falling upon the weapon, covered in a violet scabbard, though he knew it could be no other blade. 

Reaching up, he slowly ran his hand through his hair, trying to think, feeling sick when he realized that he had failed to deliver the blade to the Shrine. He’d been wounded badly in the process, as well, and forced to retreat… All the way here, all the way to the Northern Fortress, where Sir Gunter looked over Corrin and supervised her staff with a careful eye. 

Without thinking, he threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood, swaying when he realized how weak he was. 

How long had it been since he had eaten?

Brow furrowing, he placed his hand against the wall to support his weight, lost in thought until the door opened and a young man with a pale face and silver hair opened the door, clumsily dropping the towels he had been carrying when he saw Xander standing. He was dressed like one of the servants, and looked positively mortified at his actions, bowing several times before turning around and running from the room. 

Xander could only stare after him, listening to the sounds of more footsteps coming down the hall only a short time later. 

“Prince Xander!” 

Evangeline was the first into the room, rushing him and throwing her arms around his shoulders, the wall the only thing keeping them both upright. For a moment, he held her with one arm, feeling his face grow hot as she hugged him more rightly, only the sound of a terse voice clearing its throat convincing her to turn away. 

“I see you’re well. Crown Prince,” said Sir Gunter, Thorbald at his side, looking more than a bit worried… A sight that made guilt swim in the pit of Xander’s stomach. “Good. I’ve already informed His Majesty that you would live, and he seemed pleased to know that you managed to do what he thought would be impossible.” 

“Impossible?” Xander asked, slowly sinking back down onto the bed, smiling wearily at the young boy as he cautiously walked towards him with a tray full of tea and various other goods. “On the bed will be fine,” he said, watching the boy nod grimly before bowing once more and backing away. 

“That blade is one of the Divine Weapons, my Prince,” Gunter said firmly, “and a tempermental one, at that. It’s caused injury to anyone else who’s tried to bond with it… But it seems it’s accepted you.” 

His head snapped back towards the sword, a single word whispering through his mind--

“Siegfried,” he said quietly. “It’s… mine?”

The thought seemed impossible. 

He’d heard countless stories about the weapons, passed from father to son for generations, weapons one had to train to be worthy of… But Father had not proven to be worthy of Siegfried, and the Uncle that had once claimed it had long ago died with no heirs to claim the Right. For years, Father had searched for the one Worthy, the one Siegfried had chosen for itself, but… Well, it was as Gunter had said. 

He remembered seeing men be lead away by the Clerics for healing, their skin blackened from contact with the Divine Weapon. 

Never had he been allowed near it. 

Everyone knew Xander was too weak willed and sensitive for such a thing, even though he had recently been improving. After all, he couldn’t even get his retainers to listen to him, he reminded himself, flexing his hand as he tore his eyes away from Siegfried at along lost. 

But against all odds, it has chosen him.

Xander… 

Xander was the one Destined for this blade by the gods themselves. 

“You did well, milord,” Thorbald said with a broad smile, walking to the bedside and clapping Xander hardily on the shoulder. “What a display you showed us, swinging around that mighty blade like it was made of paper! Guess there’s some iron in that soft heart of yours after all!”

He flinched, but offered Thorbald a small smile, wringing his hands together in his lap. Already, he could feel his face growing hot, disliking the attention that was focused on him and desperately wishing that they would leave him alone with his tea and finger sandwiches.

“Thank you, Thorbald,” he said quietly, his eyes flickering towards Evangeline as she stepped back into his line of view, shouldering past Thorbald. 

“You saved me,” she said firmly, “twice. I was wrong about you, milord, and I’m sorry.”

He opened her mouth to tell her that it was okay -- that he forgave her and understood why she would underestimate him, that even he never would have expected Siegfried to accept him -- but he was interrupted by the sound of feet running down the hallway.

“Xander!” he heard Corrin calling. 

“Xan!” Elise cried out, practically tripping into the room, caught at the last moment by little Corrin, Leo skidding to a stop just behind her. 

“Oh dear,” Camilla sighed as she stepped into sight, looking across the room at him, a smile on her lips, though he could see the worry on her face. “I told you three to stop running in the hallways, didn’t I? What if you hurt yourselves?” 

“I suppose that’s our sign to leave,” Gunter said firmly, turning towards the pale boy with a curt nod of his head. “If the Prince and his siblings require anything else, I’ll expect you to get it for them, Jakob.”

“O-of course,” the young man muttered, his face briefly turning red as Gunter walked past him, Xander barely noticing Thorbald and Evangeline leave the room with his arms suddenly full of Elise and Corrin. 

“You came after all!” Corrin said as she buried her face in his shoulder, Elise laughing giddly.

Leo shyly approached and took the hand Xander offered to him, quickly stepping into his brother’s arms, not too old for hugs after all. Smiling gently, he pressed kisses to the tops of each of their heads and looked up at Camilla, his face softening for the briefest of moments as they met eyes. 

“Welcome home, big brother,” she said warmly.

In response, Xander only smiled, resolving to enjoy this warmth for as long as he could.  


End file.
